


Hard to Forget

by yabasic



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: A cold and stormy October night, Aged-Up Character(s), And they’re the cutest couple ever, Anne of Green Gables - Freeform, Cocaine, Coffee, Drug Use, Drug addict Richie, Fighting, Fluff, Just to set the scene for y’all, Kisses, M/M, Multi, Plus one paragraph that very lightly describes a threesome in the middle, Pre-smut and then post smut, Stan and Eddie are married, Tea, Unfinished Business, Until Richie busts in and ruins things, Yelling, homeless Richie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 01:19:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15570591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yabasic/pseuds/yabasic
Summary: "I thought that if I… that if I didn’t think about you, or talk to you, or if I moved to a different state, I would forget about you. You know... it’s real hard to forget about someone when you’re trying so hard to."OrRichie shows up at Stan and Eddie's house, high as a kite and in desperate need of a place to stay. They let him in, and not everyone is happy about it.Until they are.





	Hard to Forget

**Author's Note:**

> Velcome to my second story.

It was a stormy October night in Maine when Stanley and Eddie Uris heard the knock on their door. 

They were on the couch together when it happened. Eddie had his head on his husband’s chest, eyes half-lidded as he focused on the soft sound of the other’s voice, which was reading to him from their copy of Anne of Green Gables. His hands toyed with the neat curls that framed the sturdy face he’d fallen in love with. They breathed together, lungs inhaling serenity and expelling the chaos of their busy lives with each breath. 

“It was November-” Stan read, shifting under Eddie’s weight. The book was perched delicately atop Eddie’s dark brown waves of hair, and the pages were illuminated with the orange light from the lamp next to the sofa. Thunder crashed outside, but they both felt safe nonetheless. “-The month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and-”

Stan was cut off by the loudest series of clunks on the door either of them had ever heard, the first of which made both of them jump. It was followed by a long pause. The room around them held its breath.

“I’ll get that, you stay here,” Eddie murmured cautiously, unwrapping his body from around the other man’s and walking to the door reluctantly, bare feet cold against the linoleum tiles of the floor. 

It took quite a lot of time for him to be glad he opened the door that night. Because behind it was someone both of them thought they would never want to see again: Richie Tozier. His wet hair was still wild around his pale face, sticking out in messy clumps that barely resembled curls anymore due to how tangled they were. His usually playful brown eyes were bloodshot, and looked almost black with how dilated his pupils were. Between his chapped lips were chattering teeth, and there was blood lining the insides of his nostrils. He smelled of booze and unwashed clothes and the filth Eddie had thought he was since he left all those years ago. Seeing him was, to say the least, incredibly shocking. 

“What are you doing here?” Eddie finally asked, face hardening as he spat the words out into the cold air. “How did you get our address? I thought- I thought you were in New York.” Richie looked extremely confused, as if he hadn’t expected any questions. As if his plan had been to show up at the house of the two people who wanted to see him least, who everyone who knew them thought he hated, and not raise any eyebrows. 

“I moved back. And I asked some people where I could find you and they told me. Can I come in?” 

Stan appeared behind Eddie, arms crossed and a stern look on his face. Eddie felt a lot safer after he was there, protecting him from behind. 

“Only if you tell us what you’re on.”

“Stan!” Eddie protested, turning to him with wide eyes full of ‘it is a terrible idea to let this boy into our house.’ Stan shushed him gently, reassuring his worries with a soft hand on his head, grounding him. 

“He’s a bum, Eddie, look at him. We can’t just send him back out into the storm like that.” He said softly, eyes flickering to Richie, who seemed to be vibrating with energy and nerves. Eddie wished he could be so empathetic, ignore his own stubbornness and help someone, even someone who hurt him as badly as the boy at their doorstep had. 

“Fine. Go ahead then, Richie, tell us what you took that made you come over here.” 

“Just some vodka.” Two eyebrows raised skeptically, staring into those crazed eyes until he looked away and murmured “and some blow. Not much, just enough to make me feel good. I- I have more if you want some, I got it for cheap but it’s good stuff, really it is, I wouldn’t lie to you you know-” 

“Alright, alright, I get it. Get in the house.” Stan said coldly, because he wasn’t going to go back on his deal with Richie, even though he just happened to be high on fucking cocaine and not in a good enough mindset to realize that Eddie and Stan would never, take him up on his offer. 

Richie stumbled into the door, tripping over his heavy feet and messy words as he managed to get a few dozen ‘thank you’s out. The mood in the room was different, crumbling concrete and rough nights instead of the previous warm autumn glow that had settled over everything. It was unsettling. 

After a few minutes of Richie jittering around, tapping his long fingers against the coffee table and bouncing his knee, and Stan seeming uncomfortable at having such a dirty person on his expensive couch, Richie spoke up, voice just a little bit louder than necessary. 

“Have you guys got any food? I’m fuckin’ starving.” 

“No, when we wanna eat we go outside and eat grass like cattle.” Eddie said sarcastically, standing up from where he’d been sitting in his favorite armchair and walking to the kitchen to get Richie a snack, a letter from annoyance written on his face. For dinner that night he and Stan had made mini pizzas, decorated with mushrooms and peppers and other pizza toppings and enjoyed over glasses of wine. He could only scowl as he loads a piece of his leftover pizza onto a plate and carried it out to Richie, who engulfed the entire piece in about thirty seconds. More ‘thank you’s were said and then Stan sent him off to shower. 

“C’mon, honey, we have to talk about this.” He said after Richie had left, grabbing his husband’s hand and dragging him up to their bedroom, sitting on their large king bed. Eddie curled up next to him, baby face furious.

“What do we do with him?” Eddie said the second the door closed, under his breath like he was afraid the boy they were discussing would hear their conversation, despite the fact that he was at the other end of the house and probably in the middle of a loud stream of running water. “We can’t keep him here! He- you remember what he did, I don’t even want him near me anymore, much less in our fucking guest room” Eddie’s voice was getting shrill.

“Shh,” Stan murmured, resting his hands on his shoulders and rubbing circles into his collarbones with his thumbs. They were a balance of hot and cold, and they made it work. “Good, breathe with me, Eddie baby. We’re not gonna figure this out if you get all worked up about it.”

“I know. I know, Stanny. But how can I not get worked up about this? He-”

“I know what he did. But he needs help right now. We can’t just throw him out to die, what would that say about us?” 

They argued back and forth, until Eddie’s face was flushed and teary with his own passion and Stan was getting tired of holding him back from exploding. His weary hands were braced on Eddie’s heaving chest as the other boy spoke a mile a minute about why he didn’t want their old friend sharing their lives again. 

Then, Richie walked in, leading an uncomfortable silence along in with him. His hair was less frizzy and more curly and he smelled a lot better. His skin was a lot whiter when it wasn’t covered with grime. There was a towel wrapped around his waist and his chest was bare, exposing his hollow body and the stepping stones of his ribs, which jutted out like xylophone keys on his chest. There were bruises covering his body, small ones covering the insides of his arms and bigger ones on his chest and stomach and he seemed less high, more sedated and drained of his previous overwhelming energy.

“What were you guys talking about?” He asked softly, even though it was clean he already knew. 

“Nothing-”

“You.” Eddie said at the same time, looking at Stan with daggers in his eyes, daring him to hold back from telling Richie exactly how he really felt. “We don’t want you to stay here. We don’t want you in our lives again.”

“Okay,” Richie whispered, even quieter than he had before, shifting awkwardly between his feet and looking down at his toes. 

“You ruined everything before, Richie. You left when you knew what was happening with everyone, how terrible all of our lives were. Mike got attacked by Henry Bowers, remember that? Bev was being abused. Ben was in the hospital, and my mom had just disowned me, and Stan’s parents were dying. Where were you? Where were you, huh Richie? Yeah, you were off partying. Partying, and getting high with your new stupid friends. 

And- and do you remember what you said to us when you finally came back? You said-”

“I know what I said,” Richie interrupted, and his eyes were glassy with tears and there was a look of complete and utter agony on his face. “And I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry? Sorry?! You think sorry is gonna fix anything now you fucking prick?!” Eddie screamed at him, his own set of tear-filled eyes squinted with rage as they bored holes of fire into Richie’s heart. The veins in his neck and forehead bulged at the force of his words. Stan grabbed his arm and pulled his struggling body to his chest, trying to calm him down. He’d never seen him so furious at anyone before, like a feral animal ready to attack.

Meanwhile, Richie only stared at them, silent tears cascading down his cheeks. There were goosebumps on his arms even though the room was warm. 

“I was in love with you, you know that?” He finally said, stepping towards the other two men cautiously. “Both of you. Not- not at the same time, but I was.”

“What?” Eddie snarled, but his tone didn’t meet the look in his eyes, the look of hurt and confusion. 

“I was in love with you, Eds. And Stan, I was in love with you too, a little later on. And I thought that if I… that if I didn’t think about you, or talk to you, or if I moved to a different state, I would forget about you. You know, it’s real hard to forget about someone when you’re trying so hard to.” He took another step towards them. Stan had pulled away from Eddie, trusting that he wouldn’t attack the boy in front of him, the one that hurt them all so badly. He was marveling in his own little world of disbelief, shock at the fact that Richie would ever admit something like that to them, especially after years away from them.

“I didn’t stop thinking about you for a day since I left, not for one damn day. No matter how hard I tried. I kept picturing your face.” He stopped about a foot away from Eddie. His eyes flickered up to meet Stan’s.

“Your pretty hair, how soft it must be. And how you’re always so jumpy and irritable like a little fuckin’ fire ball,” he said to Eddie, licking his dry lips. “And how you-” a gesture in Stan’s direction, “-are always so serious and smart and how quick your mouth is. God, your mouth. You both have such a way with words, and you always knew just what to say to-”

“Stop talking,” Eddie sobbed, face crumpled up like a paper ball with the weight of his tears and the forceful compression of his thoughts. For once, Richie fell silent, just like he was asked to. The silence in the room swallowed them and then Richie broke it, whispering into the heavy air. 

“Can I kiss you, Eddie Spaghetti?” Maybe the nickname was meant to make his request less serious, less of the gigantically tremendous thing it was. But it didn't work. Eddie was still stunned by his words, so much so that he couldn't even tell him not to call him stupid names anymore. Not when they weren't the friends they used to be. 

The silent room became quieter with every passing second. Eddie’s panicked, tearful eyes flew to meet Stan’s, a wordless plea for help. Stan couldn’t do anything except nod. Because he knew that Eddie still loved Richie, no matter how long it had been, no matter how much Richie had hurt him. 

Finally, Eddie managed to open his mouth. 

“Yes, Richie, please-” 

The words had barely left Eddie’s lips before Richie’s mouth was pressed against his, firm yet gentle, scooping up his spirit in soft hands and kneading it until it warmed to softness. Big, thin fingers reached out to hold the smaller man’s face, rubbing his cheekbone with his thumb and holding him still while he melted. They swayed together, hot tongues brushing each other and noses knocking together awkwardly as they shifted their faces into a comfortable position. A look of fear crossed Eddie’s face when he moaned, as if he was afraid Stan would be mad. But his husband was looking at him with a loving expression, the hint of a smile on his lips. 

To further comfort him, Stan sat behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, kissing his neck neck and sucking on the soft skin, knowing exactly which places to nip at to make Eddie fall apart. They got lost in each other. By 12:01, Richie was inside Eddie, kissing Stan with a heart-melting passion as Eddie sucked on his husband eagerly, all so desperate to please and be pleased. The ecstasy hit them like a brick wall, better than any drug Richie had ever been on, and they screamed out their thanks to each other and begged for more with ragged voices. 

In the morning, they were pressed together in bed, soft bodies warm even in the cool air of an October morning. Eddie chewed on his lip and stared at Richie’s sleeping face while Stan read to him again from the book, voice soothing them into a state of waking rest. When Richie woke up, he went to the kitchen and made them coffee and tea and then came back and sat with them, smiling like the whole world belonged to him. 

No one ever forgave Richie for what he did. No one ever hugged him and wiped his tears and told him it was okay, because it wasn’t. It would never be okay. But they moved on. A happy pair became a happy group of three. Richie Tozier slowly grew back his friends trust, until he was a part of them again, a part of their hearts. Their love never broke. They lived together until they didn't live anymore, and they repaired what'd been damaged all those years ago. It took time, but they had enough of that. They had enough. 

 

“It’s delightful when your imaginations come true, isn’t it?”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed what you read. I'm p sure Riche was a little out of character but I'm still working on writing him. Stay tuned for more work


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